


How Superheroes Learn to Fly

by lucifel



Series: Captain Cold's Adventures in Child Rearing [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Can be read as genfic, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Mentons of violence, Past Child Abuse, Relationships are in the background, Some Humor, This story is mostly just Barry being out of his depth, day in the life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifel/pseuds/lucifel
Summary: Barry Allen doesn’t remember signing up to be the Snart Family Babysitter - but try telling Leonard Snart that.(In which Len's kid spends way too much time around the good guys for it to be accidental.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in some hand wavy time post LOT... sort of.
> 
> 2/7/17 - OMG I am so embarrassed. I can't believe I uploaded the Typo Draft last night -_-. *hides*

The first time Barry Allen found himself subjected to Leonard Snart’s Devil Spawn, he was entirely unprepared. Then again, who the hell expected Captain Cold to use the doorbell? At 4 AM. On a Sunday. In _July_.

“His name is Patrick. His bedtime is seven. He’s lying if he says he’s allergic to salad.” Barry wasn’t awake enough to do more than receive the sleeping child Snart passed him. (He wasn’t about to drop what looked like a small-for-his-size eight year old just because he felt tired.) “I should be back by tomorrow morning.” Snart paused. “ _Don’t_ call CPS if I’m late. Please.” At which point he turned his back on Barry, marched to his car, and drove off.

Barry would have, should have, sped after him to demand an explanation but Leonard Snart had just said please – _non_ -sarcastically - and that may or may not have broken Barry’s brain.

(For a speedster, Barry could be a little slow in the mornings.)

So Barry put the kid on the couch, dropped a blanket over him, and sat down in the armchair opposite to contemplate the farce that was his life. If Snart had branched out into kidnapping small children, Barry was going to call up Oliver and ask that he throw the man into a deep dark hole somewhere. Hopefully, the kid would be able to clarify matters. Also, he didn't actually believe Snart would do that.

Barry next woke up to the kid cursing a blue streak.

The kid, Patrick, was on the floor, tangled up in the blanket and so, so angry that Barry could see him turning a blotchy purple-red. Barry didn’t catch most of what the kid was saying, just the, “... and who the FUCK are you?” he shouted when saw that Barry was awake.

“Uh, hi.” Barry said, “I’m Barry. Barry Allen.” To his surprise, his name calmed the kid down.

“Barry Allen?” He repeated back to Barry.

“Yeah.”

“So this isn’t…” the kid took a deep breath. “You’re really Barry Allen?”

“Yes.”

The kid looked at him, hard. He had cold blue eyes and a piercing stare. He’d probably learned it from Snart.

“So this isn’t some crappy foster home.”

“Uh… no.”

The kid appeared to be evaluating his surroundings, still suspicious but no longer angry. Barry looked at the kid more closely in turn. Maybe not an eight year old after all. Maybe more of a malnourished ten year old that was just really, really, small for his age.

“So when’s Cold coming back for me?”

“Tomorrow” Barry said. Then thought about how manic and worried Snart had appeared. “Possibly the day after.”

The kid, finally, finally, relaxed. “Oh. Ok then.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah. If you’re Barry Allen then it's cool. Cold said to go find Barry Allen if the shit ever hit the fan because all of Uncle Mick’s friends are crazy and all of Aunt Lisa’s associates are criminals.” The kid shrugged. “You’re the back up plan.” And with that, he leaned back and stared at Barry.

Barry didn’t know how he felt about being the backup plan, but he knew better than to interrogate an unhappy kid. Even if he had many, many questions. Luckily, his stomach chose that moment to grumble. Loudly. Barry sighed. “You like pancakes?” he asked.

The kid perked up almost immediately. “Who doesn’t like _pancakes_?!”

*

Barry expected breakfast to be hideously awkward, but to his surprise Patrick was extremely enthusiastic and dove right into making himself helpful. The kid washed his hands without being asked and cracked eggs and measured salt like an expert. Barry began to suspect that home made pancakes were a special treat for the kid

“So does, uh,” Barry wondered what to call Snart. The kid seemed attached to the Captain Cold moniker but that didn’t’ strike Barry quite right. “Len make pancakes with you?” He asked.

The kid snorted. “No. He makes me eat _granola_ and _yogurt_ when its his turn to make breakfast.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he helped mix the batter. “Aunt Lisa says he did that when she was little too even though he ‘eats way too much like a teenager for his own good these days’.” He mimicked Lisa’s voice as he repeated her words, dropping the central city accent that sat as heavily on his tongue as it did Snart’s. “But she makes them with me.” He frowned. “She only lets me have them plain though. And I’m not allowed to use the stove because I might get burned and Uncle Mick says that hurts.”

Barry tried to think that through but the idea of Heatwave giving fire safety lectures tilted reality just a little too far for him to deal with before coffee. So he focused on the other half of the statement instead. “We don’t have to make them plain if you don’t want to.” He said. “I’ve got chocolate chips, bananas, blueberries, and I think there’s pecans if you want to try…” Barry trailed off as the kid’s eyes went wide.

“I want to try EVERYTHING.”

In the end, Barry decided to give the kid a quick lesson on the scientific method and they spent the morning – the _entire_ morning – taste testing different batches of flavored pancakes. By the time Wally came over to drag Barry out for their bi-weekly movie day, Barry and Patrick were working on the dishes and ready to pass out from impending food comas.

Unsurprisingly the first thing Wally commented on when he came into the house (at normal speed thankfully) was Patrick. “My sister leaves for a week and you take in a kid?” Wally jokes, “I don’t think she’s going to let you keep him buddy.” And just like that Patrick shut down. Visibly. Barry even saw his hand twitch towards one of the knives in the dishwasher. Patrick didn’t mouth off, just glared. After a painfully prolonged silence, Wally seemed to catch a clue. “Oh. Shit. Sorry kid. You in the system, huh?”

Patrick didn’t reply. Just continued to glower.

“Shit.” Wally rubbed a hand over his head. He'd thought the kid belonged to one of the neighbors. He knew Iris and Barry occasionally looked after one of the boys down the street who's dad was still recovering from Thyroid Cancer. “That was a joke. Iris would never actually kick you out if you wanted to stay. She’s a sucker for puppy eyes and -.”

“Doesn’t matter” Patrick finally said, flatly. “Cold’ll come back for me. You’ll see.” He turned to Barry, “May I be excused now? I have homework to do.”

“Uh… yeah.”

In the living room, he pulled a workbook and some colored pencils out of the backpack Snart had dropped off with him and attacked one with the other.

“Cold?” Wally mouthed to Barry.

“Snart.” Barry mouthed back.

Wally blinked. Looked at Barry. Looked at the small figure in the living room. Looked back at Barry, and sighed.

Wally went over and joined Patrick at the coffee table. He looked at him, really looked. Dark hair. Light skin. Blue eyes. Small frame. Could be Snart’s kid. Could just be some kid Snart picked up somewhere. Not that Snart seemed like the kind of to pick up strays. But according to Cisco, Snart had practically raised his little sister and according to Barry she was everything to him. Wasn’t that much of a stretch that he’d have a weak spot for a mistreated kid.

Patrick scooted away from Wally as soon as he sat down.

Wally let him get comfortable. “My mom spent half my life in and out of rehab.” He said. “Eleven foster homes by the time I was nine. Some of them were real shitty.”

The kid kept attacking his workbook. Occasionally breaking a pencil tip. Finally he said, “I’ve been in thirteen. My last foster daddy was a perv to one of the older girls so she told us to run away so we did.” In the kitchen, Barry’s heart broke just a bit. Then again, since Snart had kept the kid, odds were good he’d also tracked down “the perv” and iced him. Hopefully not fatally. Barry was oddly willing to over look it either way. Or to at least not look into it. He wrestled with the thought as he cleaned the rest of the kitchen, taking his time wiping down the counter tops so that Wally and Patrick would have some time to chat undisturbed. When he was done, he’d given them long enough that they had moved on to discussing their favorite Star Wars characters. 

*

That night, Barry’s door opened from the outside at two in the morning. Wally had long since left and Patrick had talked Barry into camping out with him in the living room. Snart woke Barry from his light doze when he broke into laughter at the pillow fort, sleeping bag, and comic book setup the two had worked out. “That’s a new record Scarlet.” Snart said. “Took the kid three whole days to get Mick this wrapped around his little finger.”

Barry blushed. “He’s a good kid.” And then, when he saw the open door, “I know I never gave you a key Snart.”

Snart ignored the second half of his comment. “Yeah, he is isn’t he?” Snart gathered Patrick into his arms while Barry made sure everything that belonged in the Kid’s bag went back into it. Patrick apparently slept like the dead.

At the door, Snart took the bag and turned a questioning look on Barry. “I’m surprised, you know. No probing questions? No child rearing lectures? Where did all that self righteousness go?”

Barry rolled his eyes. He knew Snart was expecting him to comment on the split lip, the blood splattered jeans, the bruises on his face, and the scorch marks on his parka. (None of which Snart had had that morning). He knew Snart expected him to assume they were the result of unsavory work. He did assume that. Sort of. But he also knew that Snart’s time with the Legends had led to some updates to the man’s moral code and that, these days, Captain Cold and Heatwave did as much to curb crime in Central City as they did to cause it. (And what crimes they caused were usually done to curb other, worse crimes. Mostly by the families). But that wasn’t what Snart was really getting at.

‘You’ve got some questionable hobbies.” Barry admitted, “But I know your secret remember? You’ll do literally anything for someone you consider family. The way that kid talks about you? Like you hung the moon? He’s part of your family.” Barry looked Snart in the eye. Then, as if stating the world's most obvious fact, said, “You’ll do right by him.”

If Barry’s confidence in him surprised Snart at all, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just nodded, threw a thanks over his shoulder, and disappeared into the night.

Barry believed everything he’d just said. But, just in case, he sent a text to Palmer and Stein about the kid. Just in case.

Barry wasn’t entirely surprised when, three days later, Ray texted back to say that his attempt to meet the kid had resulted in said kid stealing his wallet.

*

The second time Barry Allen found himself babysitting against his will, it was nearly six weeks later. At seven AM on a Monday morning, Lisa Snart dropped the kid off without so much as a hello. She looked jittery and spooked and Patrick had clearly picked up on her nervous energy.

“I need you to watch him” she said without preamble. “Lenny’s about to do something stupid and – look, just take care of him ok?” And then she’d gone, running back to her bike like a bat out of hell. Barry almost, _almost_ , sped after her – but chances were good Snart still hasn’t told her who he was and, with the kid right there, it didn’t seem so bright. So Barry did the next best thing and sent a heads up to Cisco and Wally via text. They’d work out whatever was going on with Lisa.

Patrick, for his part, seemed relieved that she was gone and pushed past Barry as if he’d known him all his life. “I think Cold and Uncle Mick had a fight.” He explained. “Can we have pancakes again?” They couldn’t. Not if Barry wanted to be anything close to on time for work. But there were brownies in the refrigerator that Iris had left before leaving on her work trip and if he let Patrick have a few for breakfast, he could probably use the rest to bribe Julian into letting Patrick hang around the office.

Probably.

Julian and Patrick, to Barry’s chagrin, despised each other on sight.

“This is a police station Allen! Not a nursery!” Julian exclaimed. “He’ll contaminate all the evidence!”

“Yeah well you look like Draco Malfoy!” Patrick yelled back, just as loudly, “You’re probably a death eater too!”

“Oh, I do _not_.”

“Do too!”

“Do -.”

“That’s enough!” Barry shouted. Julian, he decided, was not really Reliable Child Care material. And he probably had a point about evidence contamination. But the Harry Potter reference had given Barry an idea. “Hey Patrick,” he said brightly, “How would you like to meet HR Randolf?”

As it turned out, Patrick LOVED HR Randolf’s Multiverse book series and HR, as always, loved a fan. With Patrick safely ensconced in the Museum at Star Labs and Wally tailing Lisa on what was, per Cisco, “a weird one”, Barry spent his day doing his day job – troubled only by the occasional glare from Julian.

To Barry’s surprise however, no one came to pick Patrick up that night. Or the next morning. Or the morning after that. By evening on the third day, Patrick had become sullen and withdrawn. Worried.

Lisa Snart, according to Wally, had tracked her brother as far as Bludhaven. So far, it looked like this wasn’t so much a fight between Snart and Rory (as Patrick had claimed) as it was a Santini-Falcon grudge match that Rory had somehow gotten caught up in and which Snart (aided by Canary and some "masks" from Gothom), was trying to pull him out of. Lisa Snart, to hear Cisco tell it, was pissed as hell that her brother had called in Canary instead of asking _her_ to help.

Barry’s reassurance to Patrick that his family was fine, “just working”, was not met with much credulity.

Patrick’s mood got blacker and blacker over the course of the next day. By early afternoon, he’d already thrown three tantrums and Barry expected Julian, (who had only begrudgingly accepted Patrick’s presence in their workplace after being subjected to both Caitlin’s and Barry’s puppy eyes over dinner one evening), to kick them out at any moment. To Barry's surprise, the tantrums actually seemed to soften Julian up.

“My parents used to leave me behind all the time too.” He said to the back of Patrick’s head while the kid sat in a Barry-instituted time-out. “In Wiltshire. It was always just me, Cook, and Nanny in a big empty house where I wasn’t allowed to touch anything. Mum was a doctor you see. She always claimed she couldn’t bring me with her when she was treating infectious diseases in the arse end of nowhere and Father spent all his time in London. I hated them for that.”

Patrick didn’t turn around or answer. Just kept kicking his feet against his stool the way he’d been doing since he sat down. After a few minutes though, as he had with Wally, he opened up a bit. “My mom was a nurse. I think. She left when I was little. And none of the homes ever wanted to keep me cuz I mess up all the time.” He kicked harder. “I thought Captain Cold would be different. Superheroes are supposed to be _different.”_ He was wiping at his face with his sleeves now. Barry wanted, badly, to go over and give the kid a hug, but a glare from Julian kept him in his seat.

“You know,” Julian said, “I doubt very much Captain Cold doesn’t want you.”

“How do you know?” Patrick asked.

“Well, for one thing, he didn’t send you off to boarding school.” Julian said automatically, then caught himself. “And for another, Barry and I aren’t so much babysitters as we are – well, can you keep a secret?” He asked, voice turned conspiratorially low.

“Duh! I live with _Captain Cold_ and _Heatwave_.”

“Well, Barry and I aren’t just CSI’s for the police you see. We’re what you would call super-hero coaches. That’s how we know, uh, _Captain Cold’s_ secret identity.” Which, in point of fact, was not really all that secret. But Patrick was too young to realize that.

Patrick regarded Julian with speculative eyes. “Yeah? Who’d you train?”

“Ever heard of Kid Flash or Killer Frost?”

Patrick’s eyes lit up. “I LOVE Killer Frost. She’s SO COOL. Can I meet her? Could you get me her autograph?” And then he stopped, whole body frozen as if consumed by a sudden thought. “Does this mean I’m going to be a super hero too?”

“Whoa now -.” Barry began, but Julian cut him off.

“Well, _personally_ , I believe you can be whatever you want to be. Superhero or otherwise.” Julian replied. “But if you _want_ to be a superhero then we could always start your training say… now.”

And Patrick was sold. Hook, line, and sinker. Julian, who had apparently been a con-man of small children in a previous life, pawned off basic sorting and labeling tasks onto Patrick for the rest of the day. Barry very kindly did not make any comments about _evidence contamination_ while he did so.

*

On Saturday, someone finally came to pick Patrick up. This time, it wasn’t one of the Snart siblings. Mick Rory walked into Barry Allen’s house with one arm in a sling and the other around Jax’s shoulder. Wally, who had been radio silent for almost six hours, trailed behind with Doctor Stein. “Snart’s in the hospital.” Wally whispered to Barry and Iris, “Lisa went with him. Canary stayed behind to handle the mop up."

Patrick scowled when he saw Mick. “I don’t want you.” He said, “and I’m not going anywhere!” which both was and was not what he meant. Wally and Mick, unlike everyone else in the room, seemed to get it. Mick sat down heavily beside Patrick on the sofa and Wally ushered the rest of them into the kitchen to give the two some privacy.

Mick waited, he was good at silence.

“Why couldn’t he come get me himself?” Patrick asked. “I’ve been sleeping on this crummy couch for almost a week!”

Mick waited to see if he was done. He was.

“He can’t come get you when he’s in a hospital bed kid. ‘s just the way it is. ‘s why I’m here.”

Patrick glared at his feet. “Yeah? So what happens to me when you end up in the hospital next to him?” Mick sighed, understanding all too well what the kid was actually asking. Lisa had put him and Len through this too. And she’d been on the other side of puberty when it’d happened. Hell hath no fury like a passive aggressive teenage Snart.

“Len ever tell you how we met?” He asked.

The kid shrugged. Could be yes. Could be no.

“Well, I was in juvie.” He said, “and all anyone saw when they looked at me was some big, dumb, bruiser. I thought Len saw me that way too. Thought he liked me cuz I hit people for him. Thought he read things to me when I couldn’t get the words to look right cuz he was bored and there wasn’t anything else to do all day. Thought he got me matches cuz he wanted to keep things square between us. So when he got out, and I was still in, I figured that was that. I’d never see him again.” Mick rubbed a hand over his face. “I was wrong. Dead wrong. He came and got me soon as I got out. He stayed” Mick looked over at Patrick, “That was 35 years ago kid. And I still can’t tell you why he likes me but he’s always come back for me when he said he would. And, I’ll be honest: One time? he didn’t. One time I had to go find him instead. But… the point is we always found each other. He ain’t perfect Kid. Not by a long shot. But he tries his best and that’s good enough for me. Is it good enough for you?”

Patrick didn’t answer, just tipped over a bit and curled tight into Mick’s side.

In the silent kitchen, where all four men were pretending not to eavesdrop, Barry marveled that this was the most he’d ever heard come out of Mick Rory’s mouth. Jax and Dr. Stein however, appeared to be conducting an entire conversation via their eyebrows.

“Hey Uncle Mick?” Patrick said at last, just low enough that it was hard to hear from the other room.

“Yeah?”

“Can we go see my dad now?” It was the first time Barry had heard the kid refer to Snart as anything other than “Cold”.

“Yeah Kid, course we can.”

When they’d left, Barry found a crumpled note on the couch with three names and three phone numbers on it.

Barry’s first ever text to Len Snart said, “I was right about you. :) Did you know your kid thinks you’re a superhero?”

His second was to ask that the Devil Spawn please return Julian’s watch and headphones.

*

After that, babysitting – or superhero training as Patrick called it – became a regular thing. An afternoon here and there when school was off, a Sunday or a Saturday if things got bad for one of the Legends and they needed Snart and Rory to help. It wasn’t weekly but it happened frequently enough that, come early December, Barry found himself standing next to Lisa Snart in an elementary school auditorium because Patrick had invited he and Iris to come see his Christmas Play.

“Thanks for coming.” Lisa said, “I know it meant a lot to the brat.” To which she added, “Lenny too. Not that he’d ever say so.”

Barry smiled. “It was our pleasure.” For a moment, the two stood side by side in silence. On stage, Patrick sat on Mick’s broad shoulders, whacking at a laughing Iris with a Styrofoam candy cane the length of his arm. Then Barry said, “I think I’ve figured it out by the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“The whole babysitting thing.”

Lisa gave him a well practiced blank look. Barry would’ve bet money that she still didn’t know he was the Flash. Snart kept his promises and Rory (according to the other Legends) had developed a moral code more and more like Snart’s as time passed. Which meant that their justification for leaving the kid with him so often had nothing to do with his side job.

“Joe used to send me and Iris to her Aunt Leisha’s place once a week. He figured that an aunt who cursed like a sailor was better than no maternal figure at all.” He gave Lisa one of his boyish grins. She huffed, giving in.

“Len thinks he’s got too much Lewis in him.” She admitted. “He thinks that means he won’t be a good Dad. Thinks he didn’t do enough with me. Mick’s childhood wasn’t much better. And Mick thinks Lenny spoiled me rotten.” Personally, Barry agreed with her last point. “But they both knew Doc Allen on the inside. Said he was good people. And since you turned out pretty ok…” She shrugged. “Personally, I think Lenny’s doing just fine with the kid. Mick too.”

Personally, Barry agreed.

On stage, Iris and Patrick now both had Candy Canes. They’d progressed to fencing each other. Patrick’s friends cheered him on off to the side. Offstage, closer to Barry and Lisa, Mick and Len had twin glares trained the increasingly nervous PTA president.

“So what about you?” Barry asked as the PTA president slowly backed away from Snart and Rory.

“What about me?”

“What’s your reasoning for dragging me into _Captain Cold’s Adventures in Child Rearing_?” 

She grinned at him. “Isn’t it obvious? You work for the cops. I figure your lot are less likely to toss him in jail for his little uh… pickpocketing problem if you actually like him.”

“… you do know that children can be taught _not_ to steal things right?”

“Plus, Lenny’s going to need character witnesses for the adoption paper work Palmer's lawyers are putting together.”

From a few feet away, a child’s excited shriek filled the air.

“You’re ADOPTING ME??” Patrick screeched in Len’s general direction. “Like really really FOREVER adopting me?”

Snart snorted. “Well I guess I am now.” He said. If he had anything else to say, it was cut off by Patrick launching himself off the stage and into his arms.

Barry laughed. “Yeah. I guess he will.”

Because family, after all, was family.

 

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and feedback welcome! Also:
> 
> 1\. Please let me know if the tenses got wonky anywhere. I didn't have a Beta and some times switch between present and past tense without noticing. 
> 
> 2\. I apologize for using Iris as (essentially) scenery. Her relationship with Barry just weirds me out a bit because they were essentially raised as siblings.


End file.
